Thanksgiving and Hospitals

This past Thanksgiving was definitely the most adventurous Thanksgivings I’ve ever had. Instead of the usual food fest, my boyfriend’s Dad and his girlfriend came into town from Alaska and we ventured off to the beautiful Rio Dulce and Livingston. It was incredible. Lush landscapes with a hint of the Caribbean surrounded us while traveling down Rio Dulce. When I think of Guatemala, volcanoes, mountain tops, and the Mayan culture all come to my mind, but during Thanksgiving I was exposed to a completely new side. Guatemala’s diverse terrain and cultures is what makes this country incredibly unique and extremely underrated. I kept forgetting where I was! If you have an opportunity to explore this part of the country, I highly recommend it!

Unfortunately, upon arriving back to the Guatemala that I am more familiar with I decided to go to the ER because I was having trouble with my asthma. What I thought would be an hour or two checkup turned into a three night hospital stay. After checking my vitals, they immediately hooked me up to an IV and prepped the nebulizer (yup, that’s what it’s called…sounds like some gadget to fight aliens) for a breathing treatment. After that, they carted me off in a wheel chair to take an x-ray of my lungs. I thought getting carted around in a wheel chair was a little dramatic for my taste, but I figured it’s standard procedure in the ER. Afterwards, I was taken aback when I saw a man with a leather coat, jeans and dress shoes with a stethoscope around his neck come into my room and introduce himself as the doctor covering for the usual PC doc. He ordered a tomografía (I didn’t know what that was until I was wheel chaired into a room with a CT scanner in it). Really!? A CT scan? Is that necessary. Again, I was shocked at the testing that I had to go through and thought it was an exaggeration. Seeing how I spent two years working in the health care industry, I assumed that this was the hospital’s way of running up the bill since they knew Peace Corps would pay for everything. Later on, I learned that CT Scans have become a lot cheaper to run and is the standard way of checking for sinus infections. After the tests, the doctor told me that there was no way I could go home and I had to spend at least one or two nights in the hospital. Whoa. I can’t even remember the last time I was admitted to the hospital. For those of you who know me well, I’m the type of person who doesn’t like to make a big deal out of things. I had been sick for about a month but felt a little better, I ran a half marathon two weeks ago and I guess I had just gotten used to breathing at about 50% capacity. After the doctor told me I had to be admitted, I definitely checked myself and realized that it is not only irresponsible but just plain stupid to push myself (I ran a half marathon two weeks ago!? What?) and ignore what my body is telling me.

Anyway, the hospital was quite nice. I had to share a room with another person which was a little awkward but after a day we started talking to each other and I met her family. She’s a 76 year old woman who lives in Esquintla (near the coast) and her husband has actually worked with PCVs in the past. The food was good (shocker!), I had a big flat screen tv to myself (watched episodes of reality tv shows that were the same ones running before I left for Peace Corps) and adjustable hot water showers. Despite these amenities, it was incredibly boring and the fact that I could only walk up and down a hallway for three days drove me mad. After a frustrating check out process, I left the hospital Wednesday without having to pay a dime (bill total $2,000 USD… pretty good deal!) and immediately treated myself to a McFlurry. I had to spend one incredibly cold night in Santa Lucia and then finally I was allowed to go back to site. Thank you to my wonderful Stateside and PC family as well as friends for the phone calls, messages, and distractions  Feels good to be home!!

All Saints Day (Día de Todos Santos)

Soaring through the air on November 1st and 2nd, kites of all colors and sizes can be found across the Guatemalan skies. Dia de Todos Santos (All Saints Day) is completely different than anything I’ve ever seen in the United States and it is because of this rich cultural tradition that I was reminded of Guatemala’s beauty and my love for this country.

The story behind the kites is based upon the very essence of All Saints Day: remembering and honoring the deceased. Every year on this date, families join together at the cemetery to place flowers, food, drinks, liquor, pictures, etc on the tombs of family members who have passed. Cemeteries are suddenly bursting with life. Food vendors, music and people gather all day (and sometimes night) to celebrate this day. What struck me as fascinating is that instead of seeing people drowned in sadness and covered in tears, people are rejoicing with the pleasures of life. I’m sure that is easy to say from an outsider’s perspective, and of course there are definitely the men who take shot (after shot after shot) in order to remember the dead, but it seems as though this holiday is more like Thanksgiving in the cemetery. As for the kites, they serve as a way to communicate to the deceased up in heaven.
Sumpango is known worldwide for its kite festival on November 1st with kites as tall as 20 meters! In retrospect, I should have talked to more people to get details on how long it takes to construct one of these kites but I just soaked up the day in sun and sites.


On the bus ride from Sumpango to a fellow PCV’s site nearby, families and children everywhere were flying their kites. It was incredibly gorgeous and pictures cannot capture the astounding beauty; the sun setting off in the distance with hundreds of kites soaring in the sky. Guatemala is beautiful.

My first Guatemalan Funeral

Late Saturday night I was woken up by the clanging of pots and pans and the rev of the blender. “What in the world is going on?” I thought to myself. Usually by 10pm everyone in the house is fast asleep. In my sleepy stupor, I decided not to give it much thought and go back to sleep. Sunday morning, while trying to take advantage of the hour of no rain, I ran into my host mom and asked her what was going on. “Don’t you know that Licena’s dad died last night!?” Apparently, in addition to being a Peace Corps volunteer, I am a mind reader.

The father of Licena, my host mom’s daughter-in-law, has been sick for a couple of months now and was diagnosed with cancer recently. He passed away around 10:30 Saturday night and they say he died peacefully, after an evening of chatting and heavy breathing, he decided that he wanted to sleep and died shortly thereafter.
The moment someone dies here, it’s time to work. You not only call family members to advise them of the death, but you begin the “velorio” wake. In order to prepare for the wake, you have to make MASSIVE amounts of food. My host family killed a cow, grinded 2 quintales of corn to make hundreds of tortillas, ordered five baskets of bread and countless pounds of vegetables. People from all over the community gather at the house to pay their respect and lots of people stay the entire night to mourn the death. So the morning after the family had to provide breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, then coffee with bread throughout the entire night (no one sleeps), then breakfast before the funeral. The coffin and flowers were arranged in the front room of the house for all to see the moment they walked into the house. Apparently the night before the burial, the body started to smell and everyone dashed to find incense and candles. I had wondered how they could have put formaldehyde in the body so quickly…answer is…they didn’t! (sorry is that TMI? My censor for that went out the window month three of this experience).

Another interesting thing I learned, aside from the insane amount of cooking and money spent on food for family but also for strangers just looking for a free meal, was another difference between Catholics and Evangelicals. Oh yes, the constant battle about who is the better Christian, pictures this: Jesus is in the middle of the playground and the Evangelical girl with pigtails yells “No I have accepted him into my heart not you!” and the Catholic girl turns to her good friend Virgin Mary and wonders what’s wrong with the pigtailed loud girl. Anyway, they were all going on about how amazing it was that he accepted Jesus into his heart before he died. This was shocking to me because everyone is either Catholic or Evangelical so how could it be that he was neither? I asked, “so he didn’t have a faith?” The women quickly replied “No, he was Catholic. Thank God that he accepted Jesus into his heart and is now with God in heaven!” For the Catholics reading this…surprised! Apparently, we’re going to hell because we haven’t accepted Jesus. No no, it doesn’t matter that we read the same bible, praise Jesus, nope only Evangelicals can get into heaven. Pretty sure Christianity was the umbrella that Catholicism was under but I guess I’m just a Catholic and wouldn’t know any better. Alright, I’ll step off my soap box now. It just gets under my skin sometimes.



So we went to the cemetery, the pastor gave his last prayer, and they placed the coffin into a tomb (above ground) and someone bricked the opening shut. I found myself getting emotional during these past days. At a funeral, you can’t help but wonder…who’s next? I thought of my family, of how far away I am from home, of my grandparents, of how heartbroken I would be if it were one of them instead. To properly deal with those thoughts, I had to distract myself with quotidian matters.
At the burial, my sitemate noted something I found particularly interesting, she commented on how people’s behaviors suddenly change when a family member dies; you realize how you took that person or life in general for granted. Family members who fought now get along; but the change is ephemeral. Sad isn’t it? Let’s try to remember the delicate nature of life and appreciate one another.

Everyone's a little bit racist

Yup, if Avenue Q hasn’t given you the news yet, well, now you know. Before my service, I imagined myself living in a rural village. My Dad joked about how my new address would be the third hut on the left. During the time when I announced that I had accepted my Peace Corps invitation and leaving for service, I felt as though I was constantly justifying my rationale for serving, constantly defending people and a culture that I’d never even experienced. The “us and them” mentality was in full effect: Americans vs. Guatemalans. Why would I trade hamburgers and draft beers for tortillas and eggs? (Actually, to be perfectly fair, that question crosses my mind from time to time). But back to the point, I felt a clear sense of racism among many Americans against Guatemalans before leaving in August 2010.

Fast forward a year and I come to find that the Guatemalans who are oftentimes subject to racism in the United States are in fact racist themselves. I knew that racism existed in all societies and being part Colombian I knew that skin color was definitely a factor in the societal hierarchy in Latin America. But I never thought that I would witness such a high level of discrimination on a daily basis in site. Working side by side with the Mayan Council, I’m constantly hearing people’s commentary. I’m not sure if people think that since I’m from the States then I’d also have the same racist thoughts against indigenous people or what but people seem to be quite open with me about their thoughts towards “the mountain people”. Yesterday, I sold a solar lamp and water filter to my host mom on behalf of the Mayan Council. On the water filter, there’s a space where you write who sold the item, so instead of writing my name I wrote “Alcaldía Maya” (Mayan Council). Immediately, she doubted the Mayan Council’s involvement in selling the products. The conversation went something like this:

Host Mom (HM): “Is the Mayan Council really selling these products!? What do they have to do with this?”

Me: “Yes, they’re working with an institution that provides them with water filters, solar lamps, they even do eye exams and sell reading glasses.”

HM: “What!? Could they be capable of giving eye exams?” (As if indigenous people are completely incompetent or incapable of accomplishing something aside from farming and selling in the market).

Me: “Yes, they went through workshops and have certificates to prove it. They actually do a lot of work that helps the community”

HM: “The indigenous community you mean”

Me: “No, everyone. They help anyone but are especially able to help Mayan communities because they speak the language.”

HM: “But what if they (the new Mayor and his people) get rid of them?”

Me: “That’s illegal, they have a constitutional right to exist.”

HM: “Really!? But why?”

And then I go on explaining the work that the Mayan Council does (for the millionth time). Then her son enters, asks the same questions, and I repeat myself.
I’ve had so many conversations like this. For all the complaints I get from people in my town about how Americans are so racist towards them when they (usually illegally) are in the US; I would think that they’d understand a little bit about how discrimination is unacceptable…but that isn’t the case. Everyone thinks that the Mayan Council is going to be taken away, nobody in the urban center knows about the work they do, it’s like they’re all afraid of admitting that there’s an indigenous presence in Canillá. My sitemate was telling me how a school director was saying that she didn’t think the Mayan Council was going to be able to stay, calling them “creidos” (conceited, stuck up) because they always want things their way. It reminds me of the racial issues various minority groups have had to endure in the US; whites calling minorities’ complainers for bringing injustices to light.

“Just wait,” I tell my co-worker, “in a couple of years they’ll be raving about all the good work you all do and will be asking for help. Then they’ll see.”

More on Immigration

Due to an increase in unemployment among the municipal workers who will soon be replaced, it seems that everyone is talking about going to “El Norte” (the north aka the US). They all plan on crossing the border illegally which makes me think, once again, about how immigration plays such a large role in my personal life here.

In Canillá, there aren’t really jobs here because it’s so small You can work for the municipality, the bank, be a teacher, work at the health center, own some sort of a tienda, or work your farm (but this is typically small scale and the only market is selling products once a week in our local market or traveling long distances to sell in the markets of nearby towns). . In fact, the more educated you are, the harder it is to find a job in Canillá. If you’ve studied in school, that leaves you with the municipality, the bank, the school system or the health center. Some towns have NGOs or foreign institutions that will hire Guatemalans, but those are also on a contract basis and are typically located in department capitals. For example, Save the Children used to be in our town but they’ve moved on to other municipalities and they either take their staff with them or hope that the municipality hires the local workers.

I keep going back and forth as to whether people who say they’re crossing the border are doing it because of necessity or because they want to keep up with a high-level of living. In Canillá, you definitely see both cases. The people in the municipality are used to a certain amount of pay and some of them have even entrenched themselves in massive debt, thus, taking a low-level Guatemalan job just isn’t going to cut it for them. For others, it’s a matter of survival. It’s far better for them to find a low level US job that no American really wants to do in order to send that money back home (see NYT article about hiring locally for farming jobs). But then there are the risks associated with all of this:

• It’s expensive to cross the border, last I heard it ran for about $8,000 USD plus 10% interest and obviously if you don’t have money to live in Guatemala, you don’t have the money to pay that fee upfront
• It has become increasingly dangerous. Justin was telling me that a coyote from his town mentioned how the narcos are pretty much running shop in the border towns; you can play by their rules, get killed, or wait around indefinitely by the border to cross (and that isn’t guaranteed). This is on top of the other risks associated with illegally crossing the border: border patrol, injuries from harsh weather and walking conditions, illness, gangs along the way, etc.
• You leave your family. I cannot count how many family problems I’ve encountered because a child’s parents have left for the United States. In some cases, the children stay with the mother but then the father gets a new US wife and forgets his family back home. In other cases, both parents head for the US and leave the children with the grandparents who may not be able to dedicate the time and effort to raise another set of children. And in worse scenarios, the children become abandoned, forced to live on the streets or figure out how to fend for themselves.

Despite these risks, in their opinion, it’s still worth it to cross.

Never in my life have I thought about immigration so much. Honestly, immigration and the drug war are the two issues that have been completely eye opening for me. My mom is from another country, so of course I was familiar with immigration, understood the complexities of preserving an old culture while trying to fit in with a new one; but never had I experienced these sort of immigration issues on such a wide scale. I had never been on the other side of the fence.

Whenever I see news coverage about immigration, I immediately download the article or podcast. The New York Times posted an interesting article with photos and a documentary that I read a couple days ago. A couple salient points “Deportation is expensive, costing the government at least $12,500 per person”, “‘repeat crossers are singled out for removal alongside ‘serious felons,’ ‘known gang members’ and ‘individuals who pose a clear risk to national security.’” (I know repeat crossers…they are definitely not anywhere near the status of a gang member or big risks to national security), but what struck me most was the quote by David Shirk, director of the Transborder Institute at the University of San Diego “"If you think drug dealers and terrorists are much more dangerous than maids and gardeners, then we should get as many visas as possible to those people, so we can focus on the real threat…Widening the gates would strengthen the walls." Now before dismissing this comment, really think about it. Who should we really be targeting? The people in my town looking for work? Or the gang members and narcos that make a profit because they can manage increasingly intricate obstacles that the US creates to “stop” immigration? Immigration is incredibly complex and as I continue to meet people in my town who were born in the US, have crossed illegally, just want to visit, want to start fresh, I find myself wondering how can people in Washington, who probably have never seen the other side, make blanket solutions to immigration?

Tangible project or relationship building?

Sometimes I wonder if I started on the wrong foot. I’m about a year into my service and, as such, I’ve really tried to reflect upon what I’ve done thus far and where I would like to go. The other day I was talking to the person I replaced in site to gain a better understanding of what she missed the most about her service and Canillá. She told me that the people, the play dates with children, the strength of the women who fought for their families while having so little; those were much more impactful than the “work” aspect of her service. It made me think, “What am I doing with my service?” Have I just been imposing my American work values and definitions of “success” on this incredible experience and opportunity to appreciate life in a new and exciting way?

In my defense, this past year has been quite interesting due to the election period. Women in communities stopped showing up for meetings due to fear of giving the impression that they were in support of the mayor when in fact they supported someone else. I also believe strongly in working with my co-workers. I could go out to communities by myself and start from scratch but, at least for now, my co-workers are very knowledgeable and workshops go much better when they are present with me. I continuously go back and forth between telling myself that I’m just making excuses and telling myself that I should stick true to the capacity building aspect of Peace Corps. Anyway, in lieu of community outings and workshops, my co-worker and I have been going full steam with the construction of a Cultural Center. Right now we’re about a month into the construction but we have had several delays due to transportation delays, weather, elections, etc. So currently the workers are putting up the metal rebar skeleton for the cement columns that serve as the support of the entire structure. But once again, after having that conversation about how the people truly make a service, I’m beginning to wonder if I went about all of this incorrectly. Have I sacrificed relationship-building opportunities for a tangible project? Perhaps I’m being too critical, but I think it’s important to analyze the past year in order to make a stronger effort to explore new realms in the next coming year. When I think of new projects, I tell myself, once the Center is done, I’m too busy now. I don’t want to go home thinking that I didn’t take full advantage of this opportunity. I guess sometimes it just gets so exhausting to be an outsider; I’d prefer to spend my free time holed up in my room working on “personal growth” or, let’s be honest, crossing off must-see tv episodes. As with everything in life, it’s about balance. (On that note, here’s a funny video clip about PC that I got from a fellow PCV’s facebook )


Hopefully I can balance the tangible and intangible successfully enough to finish my two years feeling satisfied and being able to tell new volunteers about what I miss the most after I have COS’d.

Election time

This past Sunday, on September 11th, Guatemala had its first round of elections. I say first round, because if a presidential party doesn’t reach over 50% of the popular vote, there is a second round of voting in November between the top two candidates. This is the first election of my life, where I was more concerned about the outcome of the local election than of the national election. (Just an aside, this whole experience is teaching me the importance of local politics and it will be a personal goal of mine to become more involved in and informed about local government when I return to the US). Because I work in the municipality, my second year of service is dramatically contingent upon the results of the local election.

The morning of the election I received word that a car carrying 16 people crashed coming down from a community in order to transport people to the urban center to vote. One woman died and fifteen were injured. A woman died because she wanted to exercise her right to vote. Apparently the breaks went out, but there are tons of rumors as to the “truth”. An opposing political party immediately took advantage of the situation and started telling people that the event was the perfect illustration of how the current mayor doesn’t take care of his people. I was immediately revolted by the ability people have to take something as serious as death and manipulate the situation into a political attack. I decided to spend the day in my room catching up on reading, tv shows and laundry. What I thought could have been a potentially dangerous day turned out to be fairly monotonous. Around eight at night, I decided to join my host family and watch the news as well as catch up on the gossip concerning the local election. According to my host mom, we would know the results by eight thirty. We watched as people went from one political party center to the next in order to enjoy free food. At around ten thirty, one political party center immediately began throwing fire crackers and yelling (that’s the way people typically figure out who wins – the winner throws a big party). It turned out to be a false alarm. What was strange about this election night was that it took incredibly longer than usual to know the results of the election. After some midnight munchies and chit chat, I finally decided to go to bed a little past one am. At around two am I received a phone call from one of my co-workers. The current mayor lost. Her tone of voice was a mixture of shock, sadness and fear. Not only did my co-workers candidate lose, she also essentially lost her job that night. When a new mayor is elected, the entire municipal staff is wiped out. During campaign season, candidates promise all sorts of jobs to family members and supporters. Therefore, my hardworking co-workers could easily be swopped out for a candidate’s sister’s friend who has no particular interest in women’s rights.

The next morning I awoke and my host family was ecstatic. Apparently, they were huge supporters of the new guy. “I’m going to have a job!” my host mom exclaimed. Since moving in, my host mom has expressed an interest in returning to work with women’s health. The fact that my host family was so happy made me think that perhaps things would turn out for the best with this new guy around. I expressed my concern for my project. Rumors and gossip are huge here, so I was particularly concerned of a rumor that people were trying to convince the new mayor to get rid of the Mayan Council (the community group I’ve worked closely with over the past months). My host family assured me that there was no need to worry and that anything I needed they would be sure to let this new guy know to give his support. In a land of false promises, I took their optimism with a grain of salt. Either way, my host mom has been suffering through a lot lately and it made me happy to see them full of hope and promise. Later in the evening, I had a two hour conversation with one of my co-workers to try and figure out a way she can continue her job at the municipality. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes but essentially she’s setting up a meeting with the new mayor and the Mayan Council in order to discuss the work that they’ve done for the community and how they’d like to continue to receive municipal support. That meeting is tomorrow, so I’ll keep you all posted. As for the construction of the Mayan Center, the current mayor informed us that he will continue to support us with the labor cost. Unfortunately, there are some loose ends with funding that I was hoping he’d pay for if he won but obviously I’ll have to go through with the SPA funding process in order to make sure we have enough funding to finish the construction.
I’m extremely curious about what my job will be like after January 14th when everything gets formally passed over to the new mayor. I continue to repeat the same mantra I’ve inculcated into my brain over this past year “everything happens for a reason”.

Sometimes you forget

Sometimes you forget:

The importance of the work that you’re doing

That you’re in an amazing country full of beautiful landscapes and people

The importance of celebrating small successes

The happiness that is brought by living a simple life

The talent and wisdom of others

The incredible feeling of accomplishing a goal

How to appreciate the present

That you don't know what you've got until it's gone

Let’s help one another remember.

Asking permission from the earth to start our project!

So we’ve officially initiated our project, I’m a little hesitant because so much of our materials are still in the process of being delivered. But the construction workers are out there doing what they can. It’s incredible to think that we’ve started, I still feel in some sort of denial, like it’s not really happening. On the 12th of August we had a Mayan Ceremony to ask permission from the sacred earth to build. According to the spiritual guide, the sacred flame was weak which means that many people in the community do not see the value of the Mayan culture and that with this project it will be able to grow. That's definitely one of the goals of building this project and hopefully we can keep this rich culture alive through the activities that we plan on conducting within the Center. After the flame went out, the spiritual guide blessed the head mason and then asked the mason to walk the perimeter of the soon-to-be-built Mayan Center, he blessed the ground in a way similar to a priest blessing the congregation with holy water. Afterwards, it was incredibly wonderful that the Mayan Council collected the little money they have to prepare a snack for everyone, black bean tamales called Siete Camisas (7 shirts)and coffee.



Perhaps when the columns get put up it will start to hit me. Either way, it’s been quite the challenge arranging all of the moving parts – coordinating with various private companies to get donations. I’m doing the fundraising in an atypical manner. Those of you who know me personally, know that I’m not one for waiting to solve the maze of bureaucratic red-tape that surrounds all government processes (a little odd seeing that I now work for the government) but I know that there are tons of private companies that have plenty of left over materials, profits and willingness to give a little in order to fund community projects. I’m a big believer that companies should incorporate social giving into their strategic plans and company culture, so why not put that belief into practice?

Thus far we’ve raised money or materials from:

Cementos Progresso (Guate) – donated all cement and cal (lime in English) for the project ~ $2,500 USD

Megamart Supermarkets (US) - $2,000 USD (Gerson Lopez, who authorized the donation, is from Guatemala and currently lives in the US)

BIC Corp (as in BIC pens, lighters, etc) - $1,000 USD

PROMUDEL (an institution that works on municipal development and strengthening citizen participation, they’ve committed to give the equivalent of $1,000 USD, but because it’s not a private company it’s been a bit of a pain to coordinate…but we’re grateful nonetheless!)

We’re in talks with Grupo Macro Guatemala to see if they can donate the lamina and costaneras (roof materials) ~ $1,200 USD

And of course wonderful individuals who have given what they can to help support the project through a non-profit I founded in 2008 called Global Connections for Change.

So for all those PCVs or future PCVs out there that want to fund projects but there isn’t a blanket NGO or organization that can fund it all…hustle and don’t forget the importance of private companies! Also be patient, personally, this process has been incredibly stressful with lots of ups and downs but slowly it all come together (shout out to all those people who have supported me when I’ve sent out emails of frustrations, worry and doubt). Peace Corps could have also helped with donations but due to timing, I have not utilized them as a funding source but certainly hope to do so with future projects. Of course, anyone is free to contact me if they’d like to know more or brainstorm how to raise funds for your own projects!

Politics and Projects – A Never Ending Rollercoaster

As I’ve expressed many times in this blog, it’s election season and things in my municipality are getting extremely hectic as election day is only six weeks away. As most of you know as well, the Mayan Council and I have been working since February to start the construction of the Mayan Educational Center. Perhaps this blog post is for my own personal benefit to vent, but I’d just like to explain a little bit about how taxing the process has been thus far.

First challenge: collecting bottles. When I first presented the idea of using bottles filled with trash, nobody believed that it was a good idea; they thought the Center would fall over and it would stink of trash. After convincing them that it was possible through videos and pictures, we set forth asking all schools and directors for their support. As posted in my last blog post, we are just now reaching our goal of 7,000 bottles…this process alone took 7 months.


Next challenge: getting the land. Of course you can’t build anything if there’s nowhere to put it! We knew we wanted to build the Center in the urban center because this is where most people convene from all the communities and it’s also important that the Center be built where there is a large ladino presence because we want them to utilize it as well. After speaking with the mayor, we finally decided where it could be built. The land itself isn’t owned by the municipality, it’s owned by a community association that gives land to projects that benefit the community. Where we “finally” decided to construct the building, was not where the community association wanted the Center to be built. Then, for real this time, we decided on a location. You’d think in a couple weeks you could get the document that certifies that the land has been transferred to the Mayan Council. False. Before the association agreed to make up the documentation we had to tear down an existing building and some shack looking things. That takes what, a week right? Wrong. Three months later it got done. When we asked the Mayor what was taking so long he said he was waiting for us to bring the building materials. We then had to explain that we can’t bring any building materials until we know 100% that the land will be in the name of the Mayan Council. So, naïve me, thinking that this was all that was necessary to get the land title asks for the document the next day. Turns out that in order to receive the document, the Mayan Council has to get 100 signatures from people in the community to show that people support the decision of transferring the land. Today, five months after initially asking for the land document, I have a copy of the land title.



Fourth challenge: fundraising. Fundraising is always a challenge; it’s rarely easy to have $10,000 USD fall on your lap. In certain cases, you find an NGO that does exactly what you’re trying to accomplish and they fund the majority of the project but this is an exception. My family, friends, fellow PCVs, RPCVs, etc have been incredibly supportive and helpful in this process. I originally thought one company was going to fund 80% of the project through their social branch, but this fell through and for the past month I’ve been scrambling to find $8,000 USD. I’m happy to say that with the support of everyone, we’ve been able to raise $6,000 USD. Thank you to those amazing people who have helped along the way!! We’re almost there.
Fifth Challenge: Construction date and elections. Since we’re so close to our goal, we were all discussing the possibility of starting in August. We’re all eager to get the project started and know that if we lose motivation then we’re screwed. Right now it’s the height of the political season. The mayor wants to start building asap because it will look like this project is his project and perhaps he can win some votes off of the building. But, if the mayor loses then he could decide to stop paying the laborers because he doesn’t have money or because he lost interest or who knows what could happen. Everyone here thinks the mayor will win and that we should take him for his promise that he’ll complete the project. I know damn well that political promises are usually empty and he’ll say anything to get this thing started. At the same time, the municipality is providing labor, transport, has supported us with the transport of the bottles, and can provide for any other little thing that happens along the way; so we can’t do this project without their support. Also, depending on who wins, the new candidate could have no interest in promoting the Mayan culture and decide that he doesn’t want to help out.

So what do we do? All options have their consequences and I’m trying to do my best to weigh the options and figure out the best and safest plan of action. It’s an incredible learning experience and this is probably the first time where I really have to be stern with people instead of doing my best so that everyone likes me. When people wonder, why is Peace Corps two years, that’s way too long…it’s because these things take an incredible amount of time. The building process will only take a couple months, but everything leading up to it…takes forever! Imagine if PC were just a year, I would be forced to start construction now because I’d be leaving in October. And I was worried that PC wouldn’t have opportunities to cultivate leadership experience, silly me!

A reminder about why I'm in Peace Corps

There are certain days throughout your service when you’re reminded…this is why I’m here. When those days happen, you’re on top of the world; suddenly, all of those moments of frustrations disappear as a smile appears across your face. Today was one of those days.

After lunch a former co-worker of mine, Alex, invited me and Juana (one of my counterparts) to his classroom to pick up some eco-bricks. As all of you are aware of, I’m in the midst of constructing a Mayan Educational Center which will be made primarily out of eco-bricks (plastic bottles stuffed with trash). Our community is in charge of collecting about 7,000 to 8,000 eco-bricks. Alex had told me that his class was going around collecting bottles and I remember being frustrated because they were not coordinating with me. I had no idea when they were collecting the bottles and most importantly part of my job was to go around to the schools to teach the children not just about eco-bricks but about the environment and the effects of trash. Eventually, I put all that aside and figured that I’d appreciate any help in the overwhelming task of begging people to stuff bottles.

As we entered the classroom we were asked to sit down and the students began a short presentation they had prepared for us. To my surprise, these students went incredibly above and beyond any expectation I had of their bottle collecting process. This class went around to 16 communities and the urban center and collected a total of 3,000 bottles! Not only did they collect all of those bottles but they used their creativity to teach all of the children about environmental preservation and the negative effects of trash in the environment! They dressed up as clowns to make it lively and entertaining for the children, one student used a magic trick of changing a 5 Quetzal bill into a 100 Quetzal bill as a metaphor for the potential everyone has to change the municipality for the better, it was awesome! Everyone in development work talks about how the goal is to work him/herself out of a job and this is precisely what happened! Here I was thinking I was missing out on an opportunity to educate children when these students had put together their own environmental education workshop that was phenomenal! I felt so proud! (Can’t you tell by all the exclamation marks!)

After the presentation, Alex asked a simple question, “Do you remember who told us we could make a building by using these plastic bottles?” Everyone looked around without saying anything. There was an awkward silence and someone in the Mayan Council mentioned that they had worked together to propose the idea of building a center but then Alex repeated the question again emphasizing the use of the bottles. Alex finally said, “Carolina!” at which point everyone understood the question and said “Oh of course! This wouldn’t have happened without Carolina.” It was great! At first, you may think it’s disappointing that they didn’t immediately say Carolina but I was glad that the Mayan Council referenced themselves first. Why? It’s their project!! I’m just a facilitator, I want them to own it, I want them to tell everyone how they built this amazing center not that some American came in and built it for them. I’ll never forget Senator McFarland’s advice when I was a trainee “you can never want it more than they do.” So true!

But I digress, we filled the entire trash truck with our 3,000 bottles and went picture crazy! The students were swimming in the bottles they were so proud of the hard work they completed. I, of course, was beaming with pride and taking pictures as well while emphasizing how awesome it feels to accomplish a goal and how anything is possible with teamwork. We rode through the town to the municipal salon where we are storing the bottles so the entire town was able to see the Mayan Council and their new-found bottles.




The community has been involved in this process 110%, I couldn’t ask for better collaboration and it was a good motivator on my part that I can’t let them down. I’ve been sulking about trying to find funding but now I’m pumped again and ready to continue the search to get this thing built!! (Shameless plug: donate here!! C’mon are you gonna spend $20 to buy dinner or are you gonna help empower the Mayan population!?)

Below is a collage of pictures but you can see more and in better quality if you check out my Facebook profile.

Politics as Usual – Staying Apolitical while working in the government

Yup, that’s right I am APOLITICAL. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repeat this to people in my site recently. You see, this year is an election year and I have found myself in the most political environment I’ve ever experienced in my life. Not only are small town elections an incredibly big deal, but it’s even more of a big deal when you work with the local government. Unlike in the States, in my town, if another mayor gets elected they wipe out all municipal staff and start fresh. Whoever gets elected mayor will fill all these new positions with people that he’s promised jobs to throughout his campaign. So, my “pilas” (hard working) co-workers will suddenly be replaced by such and such’s cousin or daughter of so and so who donated tons to the campaign and never mind if he or she is qualified or not for the position (nepotism at its best!). Aside from being incredibly frustrating, this process is incredibly unsustainable because all the knowledge that was acquired from previous staff members is lost in an instant. Documents are deleted and papers are shredded as the previous mayor hands off the municipality to the new mayor. Oh, let’s not forget to add chisme (gossip) to the mix as well! What better way to win an election than spread lies about the other candidates? Now, I’m not going to pretend that the electoral process in the US is perfect and candidates don’t spread lies about the other but I’d like to think in the US it’s more of a twisting of the truth than straight up lies (although now I’m thinking about our president having to show his birth certificate to shut up certain members of government so perhaps I’m wrong). Either way, it’s just a whole new level of gossip. Today I heard that if one candidate doesn’t win he not only is going to kill the candidate who wins but also kill himself because of the debt he has incurred over the past months. Two days ago, the national news station announced that the current mayor couldn’t run because he failed to turn in paper work (completely false) causing the mayor to have to run an emergency programming where he literally showed his paperwork on television.
Another tragic, but interesting, aspect of elections here is the voting process. Many people in the rural areas of Guatemala cannot read or write and the way people vote here is by using a pen to mark an “X” on the party symbol you want to win. You get four different colors of paper that represent a different level of election (president, mayor, etc). Writing an “X” doesn’t seem so hard right? Wrong! We did a workshop with a group of indigenous women and of the 20 women that participated, only 3 women voted correctly during our mock voting activity!! That means 17 votes would have been nullified. Obviously, this is only an issue in the rural, poor, less educated communities and it is precisely in these communities where they especially need to exercise their right to vote because they are incredibly under-represented in almost every way! We made fake political parties and some would draw that symbol within the square (i.e. a heart) or mark an “X” on the back of the page or pass the lines. I mean imagine, you’ve never held a pen in your life and you have to mark an “X” within a box. It’s like asking a two year old to color within the lines, it takes practice! Therefore, there’s lots of work to be done.
On a national scale, things are quite interesting as well. There’s tons of drama about the candidates. One candidate divorced her husband so that she could run because it’s illegal to be president if your spouse has served as president. One political party is under fire because two mayoral candidates have murdered candidates of other parties. Another candidate was heavily involved in the civil war and lord knows what sorts of atrocities he committed in the past. A lively crew! This morning I got to watch a little bit of the presidential debates and I was suddenly reminded of how church and state are so intertwined in this country. They were discussing homosexuality, gay marriage and adoption and almost all the candidates mentioned God and how in the Bible God only created man and woman, etc etc. I found myself getting more and more frustrated with the way questions were asked, the content of these questions and had to leave the room (why the hell are you cracking down on gay rights, do something about the safety and security of your country!!! NOOOO do not go back to just teaching children about abstinence only prevention methods!!!!) I’ll continue to take a deep breath and pause for a moment for the next couple months in order to remain sane.
In the meantime, I’m counting down for September 11th to get over with so elections can be over and done with (at least on a local level, and yes September 11th is election day here).

Food in Cuerpo de Paz

Eating beans and eggs every day for weeks? Or how about being served a meal with potatoes, rice, spaghetti and endless tortillas? Here’s another one, in the middle of your cooking session your gas runs out or the power goes out. Oh wait, and every volunteer knows this story, you’re invited to someone’s house and share a meal with them only to find yourself scrambling to the nearest bathroom to well, you know, I’ll save you the details. There are numerous reasons why food in the Peace Corps can be a bit of a personal challenge. Last week my host mom told me that she will no longer be able to cook lunches for me anymore (lunch is the big meal of the day and when I eat meat) so it suddenly dawned on me how differently I think about food here than I did in the US.

During training all of my meals were provided by my host family, sometimes it was delicious and sometimes it was a bit strange (spaghetti with hot dogs, ketchup and tortillas). Either way, during training I never had to worry about grocery shopping or how to prepare my next meal, it just sort of appeared. Upon arriving in site, I had to figure out a way to set up a kitchen in a limited space with limited materials. Thank goodness I replaced someone (thanks Cali!) and inherited a stove top and some necessary cooking materials. Thus, I have the necessities but I could certainly use more Tupperware and pots and pans (my spaghetti pot, is my sauce pan, and disinfecting bowl). Anyway, I thought it may be fun to go through how I have to prepare a meal here in site.

Market here is Saturday and usually on Friday nights you get a sneak peak and can buy most of what you need ahead of time. Market days are kind of a big deal, some people even get dressed up for them! I guess it’s when you run into community members and chit chat while also picking up what you need for the week. I prefer shopping on Friday nights in order to avoid the heat and get first dibs on veggies. I usually buy: bell peppers, carrots, pineapple, strawberries, onions, beets, jalapeños, green beans, avocadoes and sometimes broccoli. That usually holds me for the week (well at least it used to because I never had to worry about lunch). I don’t cook meat here. If someone else prepares it, that’s fine, or if we kill the chicken ourselves then obviously I’ll eat that too (ever tried killing a chicken with a dull kitchen knife?…I have! I totally apologized to the chicken god for it taking a little while!) I just don’t want to deal with meat here, where to get it, how long it has been sitting out in the market, the smell, storage, etc.

Access to food here is limited. If I have a craving for something in the middle of the week and I didn’t plan for it…guess what, not happening. Also the types of veggies here is limited, in Antigua or sometimes even in the department capital (2 hours away) you can find mushrooms, eggplant, mac and cheese, wheat bread and other oh so delicious awesomeness. There is no grocery store here; instead there are lots of little tiendas where you can usually find spaghetti, basic spice mixes, rice and white bread.

For breakfast I usually make smoothies: either strawberry-banana or pineapple, carrot and beet (it’s yummy for real, try it!) with a scoop of protein powder. Dinners are pretty small for me because lunch is so big. When I had protein bars from the States I would eat one of those, beans and egg, soup, and there have even been times when I have peanut butter from Antigua that I have literally just taken a spoon full of peanut butter and dipped it into honey or home-made strawberry jam (who needs bread when you have spoons!)

So now my challenge to you all is: what can I cook for lunch!? I’d love your vegetarian recipes! Remember, nothing too complicated and I’d prefer for it to not include the use of an oven because I don’t own an oven. Either send them to my email (ckent0601@gmail.com) or just post them as a comment. Thanks!!

Oh and here are some fun food pics from the past several months!

Boy for Sale

Literally, there was a boy for sale this morning. Absolutely tragic.

While eating lunch today my host family explained to me that a drunk guy knocked on their door offering his son for sale (his son was standing right next to him). The son has no name, there's no official record of who he is or where he's from. He claims to be eleven years old but who knows if that's even correct. Obviously, my host family didn't buy him but took him in, shooed of the drunken dad, and gave the boy some lunch. While we were eating, the family was trying to figure out what to do with him. They came to a consensus that first and foremost they had to report it to the town judge just in case his mother was looking for him and to ensure that the mom couldn't place blame on the family for kidnapping or something crazy like that. Then they decided if in fact the family does not want the kid anymore that they'd let him live on the farm and work for food and clothing until he is old enough to decide what he wants to do.

This story impacted me for a myriad of reasons but more than anything it's heartbreaking to think that a human being would sell their son so they could have money to buy more alcohol. It's disgusting in fact. I also wanted to share because it's crazy that this is a reality here. Never in my life had I witnessed someone selling his son or daughter but I guess it's a reality where I live now. Poverty just hit home.

Seeds

Instead of spending most of my day in the office, I was fortunate enough today to plant seeds!! As a muni volunteer, I don't really get the chance to go out and get my hands dirty very often (very different from what I was originally imagining when I had signed up for the Peace Corps) so it was an extra special treat going to plant some veggies. Apparently there's a small vivero or greenery right next to the municipality where we keep baby trees and other random things for the community. Since it's muni property, they let us plant our seeds and try out a tire gardens. The tire gardens were a bit of a flop, after searching around for a machete we only ended up with a dull blade and no fire to heat it up with. After a couple attempts to make an incision we decided to just leave the tire as is and fill it with dirt (and a layer of nylon with holes poked in it)...same thing mas o menos right?

Anyway, I wanted to jot down what I learned:

1. Spinach and radish seeds look a lot alike (guess I should mention that none of the seeds are labeled)

2. The following seeds have to be laid out using what I gathered was the "chorro" method or sprinkling - so you sprinkle the seeds and then lightly put dirt on top sifting with your hands: carrots, onions, and pretty much any other seed that is tiny

3. Other seeds have to be planted two by two about a fist or hand width apart

4. Cucumber and guicoy (pumpkin or squash type seed) has to be planted two by two in individual holes that are a forearm width apart

5. Leaving seeds in little baggies makes them go bad, store them in paper pouches instead

6. Gallina ciegas are bad for seeds - some ugly looking grub thing

7. Putting pine needles over the seeds helps prevent birds from eating them, once the plant has sprouted you remove the pine needles

8. You can grow mushrooms in a humid bag in a dark location

9. If a crop of corn is used to chemical pesticides, it won't take well to suddenly being organic, so you can try to slowly reduce the ratio of organic to inorganic pesticides until it's 100% organic

10. Farmers have to pay a shitload of money to be certified organic so lots of farmers don't certify even if they are organic b/c they can't afford it

11. In 22 days the radishes will be ready to eat

12. In three months the carrots will be ready to eat

13. Always carry a sharpened machete

That's all I got! Clearly I'm a novice at this gardening/planting thing, I never really took interest in it when I lived in the States because apartment living isn't too conducive to planting, but I'm going to be super stoked to eat a salad that my counterparts and I grew!!

My Life a Year Ago - Pre-Peace Corps

It's crazy to think that a year ago I just accepted my Peace Corps invitation. One year ago, I was sitting in my comfortable living room in my unnecessarily nice apartment trying to figure out if I wanted to stay comfortable or explore the unknown.

I guess I'll start with a little background. Around the time that my invitation was supposed to be sent, I really didn't think I was going to join the Peace Corps. I wasn't like other soon to be volunteers that anxiously awaited their invitation. I had started applying for other jobs, thinking about going back to school, looking at Peace Corps alternatives. Hell, I bought a new car a month before I got my invite!! I really didn't think I was leaving. But it's funny what happens when you just kind of let things fall into place.

The other night I was looking back at old journal entries. I was ripe for change but was too scared to do something about it. I longed for a life that felt meaningful, challenging, and more than anything I was incredibly eager to learn again! Fear of the unknown impeded my progress. It's one thing to talk about change, it's quite another to take that step.

There were a couple of influential pieces of advice that I thought I'd share in case there are other people in the decision phase that are trying to figure out what to do. What stands out the most is what a former professor told me: I was a little nervous about living in a small rural town and my professor simply told me that it was because I was scared that I had to go experience it. Looking back, it's incredibly humorous that I was worried about living in rural Guatemala. Small town living here is absolutely wonderful and even by just visiting some other PCVs who have larger towns (10,000+) it's overwhelming! I wouldn't want my service to be somewhere that big. Another piece of advice came from an RPCV referring to the time commitment. He assured me that nothing was going to change, I won't miss that much, and when you view life on a longer term spectrum, two years is a blink of an eye, but the impact it will make is remarkable. And finally, after telling everyone that I decided to join, a woman who has always given me advice said "you're doing what I wish I had done".

I know now that I'm where I'm supposed to be and the feeling is incredible. Sure I have my days, hell, this Monday I was pretty down in the dumps, but if I compare how I felt a year ago with how I feel now - my life is much more satisfying now. Sure, a year ago I had friends, family, nightlife, pretty much anything I wanted at my fingertips but I felt trapped and under utilized. Here, I make a lot more material and comfort sacrifices but it's rare for me to wake up and not want to go to work. Even if I'm not productive, I enjoy spending time with my co-workers or my host family or my sitemate.

So if you're thinking about the Peace Corps...JUST DO IT! I'm so glad that in a year and a half I can say "I did the Peace Corps! It's a trip!" instead of "Oh yea, I've always wanted to do the Peace Corps"

Guatemala City

This Friday I had the opportunity to venture out to the largest city in Central America: Guatemala City. So a little background, Cementos Progresso is a huge company here (if I remember correctly from my Peace Corps Spanish/cultural classes, it’s owned by one of the 10 wealthiest families in this country) and they have been gracious enough to donate 200 bags of cement for the Mayan Educational Center. So, in order to discuss this exchange of cement, Cementos asked me to pay them a visit at their central office in Guatemala City. So my indigenous counterpart and I headed off to the big city! We woke up at five in the morning for the five-hour drive (it would have been even longer if we had taken a chicken bus but fortunately we went in the muni car).

There were a couple small but notable cultural differences that struck me and wanted to share. The first is how incredible the disparity is between rich and poor. On a daily basis, I interact with people who are struggling to make ends meat and then I’m standing in this enormous city with designer stores, huge malls, and luxury cars driving everywhere. It’s crazy! It’s so easy for us Peace Corps volunteers to think of Guatemala as a poor country, which it is, but because we’re not exposed to wealth we forget that people live just like people in the United States. But that’s not even what struck me very much because I already had an idea of that due to classmates and friends who studied in the States and are from Guatemala. What stood out were the reactions of my counterpart, Juana, who is indigenous.

I came to find out that Juana spent seven years of her life working in Guatemala City for a clothing factory. She told me stories of how she went from being part of an industry sewing line to being an inspector. The clothes would get sent in big shipment to the States and if the shipment was rejected for imperfections, no one would get paid. Her normal working hours were 7am to 7pm and there were many times when she worked for 24 hours straight. And these overtime hours weren’t announced in advance but were announced on a loud speaker at the last minute while you’re fantasizing about getting off your feet and going home. I didn’t even want to ask what the pay was, although looking back I should have. She eventually ended up going back to Canillá because her mom demanded that she return home, I’m sure there’s more to that story but I didn’t pry. It was weird to picture the person that I work with on a daily basis, who isn’t that much older than I am, as someone who puts together garments that I’ve found in the States with the label “made in Guatemala”.
Another interesting encounter was when we went to the mall. We were walking around and I had to go to the bathroom so we entered the mall. Juana quickly told me there aren’t any bathrooms in there which I knew was wrong because of our PC Guate visit. So I rushed to the escalator and Juana starts freaking out a bit. “Oh, I can’t go up those things.” Seven years living in the city and you’re afraid of escalators!? Very interesting. I assured her it would be okay but she looked pretty mortified so I told her to wait there and I would be right back. Then when we arrived at the Cementos Office, we had to go to the 12th floor which meant we had to go on the elevator. Once again, with a look of horror she asked if we had to go on those things. I smiled and told her unless she wanted to walk up twelve flights of stairs; we were going on the elevator. Luckily, her hatred for walking outweighed her fear of elevators. While we were waiting for our appointment I told her that in Disney World there’s this ride I went on where you get in an elevator and go up super high and it just drops you. “Santo Dios” (Oh my God) she replied.

So that’s about it, nothing too earth shattering but it made me pause to reflect.

Currently my counterparts and I are working on a pretty amazing project (if I do say so myself!) that focuses on two main objectives: empowering the indigenous community in Canilla and tackling trash management. Watch this video to check out the details and I hope that you can help us make this project a reality with a donation.

Go to www.globalcfc.org/projects.html for information on how to donate!

paz y amor
Carolina

Measuring the immeasurable

This past week Peace Corps volunteers from all around the country are filling out their VRFs. Essentially, the VRF is a way to quantify the work that we do as Peace Corps volunteers. As with any job, you need to be held to standards and you need to prove your work, especially when you’re being funded by government tax dollars. But what’s been difficult for me to grasp is how to quantify development work. It’s an age old question and certainly not one that I’m going to solve. But the bigger issue here is whether or not I want to spend the rest of my life trying to prove value.
The people I work with are “pilas” basically on the ball. They’re very driven, busy, motivated and I believe that they truly care about the work that they do and doing it well. So then clearly I’m not going to be going around the office giving workshops on how to help empower women when they know better than I do. I’m a fan of subtleties. I enjoy leading by example in a quiet and humble manner. I think it’s catching on as well. But how do you measure that? How do I say, the fact that I’m always talking about water and exercise has caused my co-workers to drink more water? Or that my counterpart now goes running in the morning. I didn’t give a taller (workshop) about running. It just catches on. I can’t put in my VRF that every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon I go with my other counterpart to her K’iche’ lessons and essentially serve as a teacher’s assistant. Is that helping my community necessarily? No. But the ladinos are certainly interested as to why this American actually cares enough about K’iche’ to go to these classes.
On the other hand, you have these large institutions that are in the business of development. They’ve got metrics and deliverables…but what does that really mean? How does one measure impact. Furthermore, how does one measure long term impact? To measure means that the impact has to be quantifiable, it has to be tangible. How can you measure morale? How can you measure confidence? How can you measure pride?
As I’m sure all of you know by now, I’ve become incredibly interested in the Mayan population. The culture is fascinating to me and I’ve always been drawn to issues concerning race. Here, the culture that differentiates Guatemala from other Central American countries and what really draws tourism is the Mayan culture; yet, most people find the Mayan population to be slow, backward, and worthless. This culture created some of the fundamental principles of society! And they’re slow? Perhaps it is difficult for them to grasp modern technology…but it would be for anyone that spends the majority of their time still doing manual labor and without access to education, health services, and technology. I ran into this guy on my way to Nebaj (a region in Northern Quiché) who said “it’s great that our ancestors didn’t write anything down; imagine what would have been stolen from us.” I never thought of it like that. There must be an incredible amount of knowledge within the Mayan population (especially among the elders) that is in threat of being completely wiped out. So what do they do? Continue to preserve their oral traditions that could diminish completely due to modernization or encourage to take the oral into written form? Something to definitely keep in mind.
But I digress. The point is the Mayan population. So I’ve done a handful of talleres with the Mayan Council but I really feel as though my impact is my presence and my continued interest in wanting to learn about their culture, customs and giving value to what they do and how they serve the community. How can I put that in a VRF? My counterpart thanked me the other day for taking the time to be with them for pushing them to become better. I wasn’t exactly sure how I did that, I’m usually sitting in a room while they all speak K’iche’ and I try to follow along with the splash of Spanish they throw in. But if that’s what it takes for a group of people to feel valued, wonderful!
I know there’s no way to fix how I have to measure my service, it has to happen. I just wish there was a way to communicate the intangible, the immeasurable, the aspects of service that truly make this rollercoaster ride of emotions, ideas, experiences worthwhile and meaningful. The reason why I decided to dedicate two years of my life to the Peace Corps.

The Vagina Monologues in Guatemala

I had never seen the vagina monologues before but it’s safe to say that I had a pretty good idea about what this type of “play” would consist of, thus, I immediately wanted to invite my counterparts along to expose them to such a taboo topic. First let's set the scene a bit about sex and women in Guatemala. I've gone to plenty of classrooms where young girls the age of 14 are bringing along their children, so clearly girls are having sex, but it is NOT discussed. Furthermore, I'd bet a hefty sum that the majority of Guatemalan women don't even enjoy sex and find it as a chore. To top it all off, the men here are completely machista, typically have more than one woman to sleep with and enforce very traditional gender roles.

So, a couple weeks ago, I found out that some Peace Corps volunteers were putting together a bilingual version of the Vagina Monologues complete with PCV actresses as well as Guatemalan actresses. I knew it was something I wanted to see but how awesome would it be to bring my counterparts! When would I have the opportunity to take women who probably have never talked about sex to people outside of their close circle of friends (if that) and live in an incredibly machista culture to a candid and somewhat flamboyant celebration of sexuality!? In addition, I feel myself constantly wanting to bring my counterparts to events or activities but because of a lack of money, it’s usually not even worth mentioning. For some reason on this particular day though, I figured it wouldn’t hurt just to mention how nice it would be if the mayor would drive us to Antigua to see a play focusing on women’s issues. She decided to ask and, to my surprise, the mayor said definitely, we’d make a day out of it. So it was a lady’s day out: me, my two counterparts, the mayor’s wife, and our muni driver (so he’s the oddball, a typical machista man with a wife and plenty of mistresses).
I found myself being nervous that entire day. First, I was sure that the mayor was going to cancel on us last minute because it’s Guatemala and it’s pretty rare that things go according to plan. But five-thirty rolled around and we were bumping around the twists and curves on the road to leave Canillá. Once arriving to Antigua, I learned a little bit about how my Guatemalan counterparts like to travel. In my head I’m thinking we can go site seeing, eat some new delish food, and completely expose them to this new culture that lies within their own country. Yea not so much. Turns out walking isn’t really on the list of things fun to do, even if it involves seeing ruins or beautiful churches. So we walk for a little bit, sit in the park for a while, buy scarves (the mayor’s wife bought me a pretty purple one which was very generous of her) and then get in the car to drive around Antigua (not the most car friendly place). For lunch we had the oh so exotic Pollo Campero (the equivalent of a KFC) and I of course giggled in my head for even thinking that we might try to eat at a good pizza place or pick up something completely new. Then at lunch I dropped the bomb. “So this play might be a little fuerte (strong) because it’s about women and sex and sexuality so yea just warning you ahead of time.” Immediately Mito (the muni driver) starts laughing and is like “Shit, I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a husband after this girl’s day out activities and this play”.
We walk over to the small but cute theater and I hand them their tickets. My nervousness is increasing, what if the play doesn’t include enough Spanish? What if they think this is wildly inappropriate? What if they want to walk out in the middle of the play? I hand them their tickets and I notice they’re pointing at the ticket and snickering to each other. “Que pasa?” (what’s up?) and my counterpart points to the word “Vagina” with a giggle and perplexed look on her face. “les dije” (I told you guys!) and I shrug my shoulders jokingly back at them. “Here goes nothing” I think to myself.
The volunteers did an amazing job putting together the play and it was a perfect blend of Spanish, English, laughter, seriousness and interesting facts (did you know the female clitoris has twice as many nerve endings as the entire male penis!? 8,000 vs. 4,000 for a man; did you also know that in January of 2011 a woman was raped every day that month in the department of Alta Verapaz? Heavy.) What was the best part of the entire day/event was the reaction of my counterparts. They seemed pumped, energized, totally on board with the fact that it is incredibly sad how women do not talk about their vaginas or their sex lives. They all also were like “Carolina, you totally didn’t mention what this play was about on purpose until right before hand huh? You’re sneaky!” to which I replied that there was a little bit of truth to that statement but I honestly thought if I had mentioned what the play was completely about, no one would have been interested. They definitely acknowledged that and also acknowledged the fact that never in their lives did they think they’d see a play about vaginas. Our muni driver didn’t involve himself in the conversation but during the play he laughed along with everyone else and he didn’t seem to have fallen asleep which means he was paying attention (and who knows perhaps it even made him think! Gasp! Perhaps for once he thought about his wife and pleasing her instead of just his, well, his “self”). We got in the car and discussed the possibility of starting our own girls groups to help empower young women before it’s too late, we made vagina jokes, we bonded. I feel like we achieved the goal of the Vagina Monologues…we talked about it! Even today (the day after) my counterparts are still discussing the play and how true it is that we don’t talk about sexuality. How awesome! In the afternoon we were celebrating a birthday at the muni and our mayor even joked about it, “why don’t you share what you two learned about yesterday?” he jokingly asked us.
In sum, I feel awesome to have been able to share this experience with the people I work with and see every day. I hope, even if it’s in a miniscule way, that my counterparts remember our day in Antigua and that it inspires them in some way; whether it’s being more open about their sexuality, being more open to participating in events about topics that may make them uncomfortable, or even if it’s just sharing the experience with other women.

Updates after a 3 month hiatus!

I know it’s been a while. I’m sitting here in Antigua at the end of what is known as “Reconnect” which basically entails all the volunteers from my training class coming together or reconnecting to share experiences, have a good time, and make sure we’re all doing okay. This is the longest time I’ve spent outside of site and I feel very strange. I want to go back home. Yep, home, not the United States but the lovely little town of Canillá. Antigua is great but it’s basically like the United States, everything is at my fingertips: internet, good food, clothes, bars, etc. I mean hell the other day I went to a gym, a real gym, and took a bike class. Nuts! I’m not even sure where I should start at this point since I haven’t written a single entry in my blog since I arrived in my site but here it goes!
I’ll start with my first time taking the bus to Canillá. So after swear-in we all said our goodbyes and went in groups to our cabecera (department capital). That experience was surreal. You have no idea what to expect, what you’re getting into, you’re saying goodbye to the familiar yet again. It’s difficult to properly describe the mental state I was in but a blend of fear, excitement and nervousness is probably the best description. I distinctly remember arriving in Quiche and looking for the bus to my town. I ask around and someone shockingly asked me why I was going there and then informed me that the bus that was already leaving the terminal was the last bus into town and what I needed to take. Shit! Luckily they whistle and shout for the bus driver to stop so I can get on. Life saver. The moment I step into the bus, I get 50 Guatemalan stares at once. I try to remember all the advice from other PCVs and so I just say hello to everyone and smile as much as possible (gotta make a good impression!) Every now and then when I get on that bus a smile to myself and remember that story; it’s comforting to know that what seemed so unfamiliar 3 months ago is routine now.
Every volunteer has a different type of experience and thus far I’ve been quite busy and I love it. I love that this is a job. Sure, sometimes it gets old to have to continuously make small talk in Spanish (I hate small talk in English so to have to do it in another language is even more laborious). My first month in site consisted of working long hours to help put together an event to elect a Mayan Princess. My town is a fascinating mix of cultures, pretty much half and half with Ladinos and Mayans. Then my next month consisted of planning for 2011 with our projects and activities. This brings me to my second point, my counterparts are super “pilas” (aka ambitious and hardworking). So for all of you out there that think that all Guatemalans are lazy or don’t know how to do anything…you’re wrong. Come on over to Canillá and I’ll show you a great group of co-workers. Sure it takes twice as long to get things done because we stop to gossip or tell some random story but we’re a team. That’s something you don’t get in the States and I know I’ll miss terribly when I go home. The other day we were talking about elections (if a new Mayor gets elected basically all of my co-workers are fired and replaced with the new Mayor’s people) and one of my co-workers said “don’t worry Carolina, if we don’t work here we’ll still help you out because what’s important is that we help the women and children here and that our five year plan keeps going”. I’m incredibly lucky.
I also have a wonderful family and sitemate who is basically part of my family now too. When I first arrived to site I lived with this one family that was okay but I didn’t necessarily feel too comfortable. The lamina roof didn’t connect with the walls so birds were constantly in my room and it would get incredibly chilly at night. Also there was a man who lived in the room next door whose snoring was INCREDIBLY loud. I can usually sleep through anything (bombas, dog barking, camioneta noises) but this dude took it to another level. Thus, all of those things added together just made me feel uncomfortable. Justin reminded me of advice that he heard from another volunteer that in Peace Corps we have enough situations of feeling uncomfortable so there’s no need to make it worse. If you don’t feel comfortable in your own home, life’s going to be pretty rough. There are a couple situations that seem to stand out in my mind in regards to living in that house. The first day I arrived in site I read for hours and cried. Change is hard and even though you know it’ll get better it’s still scary. All I had was a bed (thank God I had that!) and emptied suitcases. Alone. Another situation that was strange for me was cooking. It’s like I had put up a wall or something in regards to getting cooking supplies and cooking for myself, some sort of mental roadblock. I’d make so many excuses so that I wouldn’t have to cook for myself. It seems ridiculous now looking back but at the time I just didn’t want to do it. I think I thought that if I started setting up my kitchen and everything then I’d have to stay in that house. I just didn’t want to settle in so for that first month I just told myself that everything was temporary. Even though my living situation wasn’t ideal, things at work were great and my co-workers made up for the lack of feeling at home in my old house.
By the beginning of December I moved into my new family’s house. I definitely have to thank Peace Corps for coming out to my site so quickly to approve my new living situation. I told them I wanted to spend Christmas with this new family which meant I had to move in that week; they arrived the next day. I live with a great couple and my “mom” reminds me more of my abuelita which is great and her son and daughter-in-law live next door which is where my sitemate lives. So we’re all a big family and it’s perfect. I never want to move out and I’m thrilled that I have a family now. I always knew I wanted to live with a family during my service. I know Americans love their privacy and all that jazz but I miss my family at home incredibly and it’s important to me to have a close connection with a family here to help deal with that separation. Obviously no one can replace my mom and pop but I can already tell it’s going to be incredibly hard to leave my Guatemalan family after two years.
This is getting pretty long and there’s still so much more to say, I’ll have to put up another post describing the work I’ve been doing and plan to do next. But in general, Peace Corps is one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. I know I’ll have my lows and difficult moments, but I know this is where I belong. Isn’t it an amazing feeling when things just connect? When you know what you’re doing at that moment is exactly what you need to be doing at exactly the right time.